Gentian Blue
by SawyerRaleigh
Summary: They knew destiny and honor set them apart, but it was a lovely dream.


_Author's Note: This is an idea I've been toying around with for a while but never actually sat down and wrote. I really liked the complicated dynamic between Karen and Aoki (or maybe it was just complicated in my head, I don't know. XD) but no one else seems to write much about them. Too much emphasis on all the yaoi in X I guess, not that I can talk after all my Subaru/Seishirou stuff but still. It's time Karen and Aoki got some love. XD_

_About the title: It was suggested by Phoenix to Flame and I was intrigued upon doing a little research. Gentians are a kind of flower whose meaning seems to vary considerably and contradictingly depending on who you ask. Its meanings seem to range from injustice to fidelity and integrity and I liked the idea of the flower representing Aoki, especially as the name always makes me think "gentleman" XD. In the end however, blue represents fidelity and I tend to see him as being conflicted but ultimately loyal so I decided to go with it. :P_

_._

Physically, he did not look the least bit out of place at the front desk. It was something about his mannerisms that nudged at Karen's intuition.

He was fairly attractive though not in a male model, celebrity, superstar kind of way. He was the sort of person who would not stand out on the metro but he was not unpleasant to look at if your eyes did happen to land on him by chance. His hair was neatly trimmed and his shoes appeared to be relatively new, or at least well-polished. No high-end brand marked the briefcase he carried but it was real leather, a practical, sturdy case with a few stray sheets peeking cautiously out of the top. The suit he sported was a little worn but well-cut, possibly tailored.

Upon taking all of this in, the girls immediately began to whisper, placing casual bets on what bizarre fetish he must have. No man this solidly established would seek a body he had to pay for unless he could not convince a lover or girlfriend or wife to perform some deviant act for him.

After a few moments conversation with the receptionist, she led him back to where the girls stood, giving him suggestive looks to entice him into selecting them for his "bath". Karen studied her nails in boredom, knowing that her red hair was usually enough to catch men's eyes. She more often tried to downplay herself just to catch a break between customers. The girls sighed in disappointment and Karen looked up to see the receptionist beckoning her. With an inward sigh, she stepped down from the platform and flashed the man a dazzling smile.

"And what may I call you sir?" Most men had a tendency to choose code names for themselves, usually overblown wishful thinking names borrowed from movies or video games.

He bowed respectfully. "My name is Seiichiro Aoki." He looked back up with an open smile. "And yours miss?"

She raised an eyebrow. That sounded like a strangely normal name to choose but if that's what he wanted to go with. "Kasumi." She answered simply, leading him to display of various scented soaps and lotions. "Which scent would you prefer?"

"Huh?" He gave the display a baffled look then quickly shook his head. "Oh no! I'm not here for a bath! I'm here because I'm writing an article!"

"An article?"

"Yes! I'm a journalist, and my company is doing a report on the truth behind soaplands."

"The truth?"

"Yes, it's actually for part of a larger study regarding the sex industry in Japan in general." He blushed slightly. "The manager actually pointed me in your direction because she said that you were the most outspoken and honest."

"Oh."

It wasn't the first time in this line of work that Karen had been thrown for a loop, but it was certainly a memorable moment nonetheless when she tried to explain to a man who had clearly been born, raised, and lived to raise his own family, in a normal middle-class Japanese household how someone could be in such need of money as to sell something as precious as their own body.

Seiichiro Aoki, she discovered was a painfully honest and ordinary man. The only thing she could find that seemed to stand out about him was his overwhelming kindness and patience. Unlike most journalists whom Karen had met, who simply enjoyed sensationalizing every story, glamming it up to make it sparkle and attract more attention, Aoki seemed genuinely concerned with getting his facts straight and telling the story as fairly as he could. It touched Karen deeply that that sense of justice in him so determinedly extended to those whom society spent most of their time trying desperately to ignore, to sweep under the rug and pretend like they didn't exist,

It was a pity that halfway through the interview she had noticed the small gold band on his left hand. A pity, but not a surprise. To say that Aoki seemed like a catch was an understatement as far as Karen was concerned and as she noted aloud to him, much to his scarlet-cheeked surprise, all the good men were either married or gay.

She knew he would have to leave, that he would walk out that door and return home to his lovingly warm family and his quaint suburban life, but Karen found that she could not help but briefly fantasize about what it would be like to be the woman walking home with him.

Who was she kidding though, Karen wondered as she pulled on her own crimson coat. She would never see him again, much less have him for a lover. She sighed to herself as she stepped out into the cold and decided that it was a good night for a cup of tea and a few chapters worth of reading before bed. Paul was the only man in her life and her only consolation was that she was fairly certain that she was the only woman in his.


End file.
